Break my Heart with Broken Bones
by Glorytommy
Summary: Molly thinks she finally meets a man that can make her happy, but it turns out he isn't what she thought he was. Not at all. [Trigger Warning for Abuse]. [Unhealthy MollyxOC]. [Eventual sprinkles of Sherolly and a dash of Warstan].
1. Chapter 1

**A/N** : Trigger warning. This story will deal with abuse (mental, physical, emotional, sexual). I read a few fics that seemed to be a bit over the top and psychologically off when trying to capture the thoughts and actions of both the abused and abuser. This is my attempt to put my spin on it. While I've never been a victim of domestic violence, nor have I written on it before, I've read and heard the stories and have seen the facts and statistics, though, so I'll do my best to be true to how something like this comes about. Every situation is different, of course, but hopefully this one will be believable. If a tad bit dramatized, because what in Sherlock isn't?

In addition to this, I should also point out that this is my first Sherlock fic. I'll be doing my best to keep everyone in character, but feel free to give criticism if you think something is off. This'll be mostly in Molly's pov with hints of Sherolly sprinkled in, but not much. Not until the end, anyway (Maybe). But this is not a Sherolly fic. It's a Molly-centric fic. And is basically just me experimenting with her character. (Warstan will also be present, of course).

Right. And without further adieu, on to the story!

* * *

 **Chapter One. A Charming Knight.**

When Molly met him, he had been her saving grace.

The night started out great. A couple of the single ladies from the hospital had invited her to a night out on the town... and while she usually spent her free time contently curled up on the couch watching something on Netflix with Toby, she didn't mind human interaction every now and then, and so she'd agreed to go.

Jenny, a nurse from ER, and Liz from the Pharmacy had dragged her into the bathroom to get her all "dolled up" despite her best protesting that she thought what she was wearing was fine. The end result, she had to admit, was impressive. They'd freed her hair from it's ponytail, tossing it over one shoulder to show off a bit of her neck. Combining their makeup together (because Molly rarely carried any herself), they'd been able to find the right shades for her skin tone and had given her a softer version of the smoky eye evening look. And as embarrassing as it was, they had also made her lose her sweater, pop the first few buttons of her shirt (thankfully she'd worn a camisole), and hike her skirt up an inch or two above her knees.

She didn't feel much like herself when she looked in the mirror, but she did feel good... if a bit apprehensive. Truly, unlike the rest of the group, she didn't agree to the outing to meet any men. After Tom and the terrible realization that she was not even a little close to having gotten over her one-sided feelings for Sherlock, Molly had decided that she'd take a break from dating. Maybe deal with herself first before she tried to bring someone else into her life. (Months later she was still making the same excuses, but nevermind). All that said, she had let the girls have their fun making her over anyway. Not that they would have taken no for an answer.

The club itself was fun. The great thing about going out with a bunch of single women was that you were all in the same boat. The first 45 minutes or so, they'd all taken turns talking about their exs and really just men in general as they got tipsy off their own individual alcohol of choice. Never having been a big drinker, Molly had still been nursing her first glass of gin and tonic as the other girls were already starting to slur. Eventually, the topic of dancing had come up and, while she'd also never been much of a dancer (her moves were just as awkward as her personality), they somehow convinced her to hit the floor with them. Despite being out of her element, she still found herself having a really good time.

It was about a little more than an hour in when things began to get a little too much for her. The others seemed to take kindly to a group of guys that wanted to dance a bit dirty but, having never been comfortable with anything like that Molly had tried to leave the dance floor to let them all have their fun without her. She didn't mind if they wanted to keep going, but her feet had been starting to kill her and she needed to sit down.

The problem with that though, was that the groups had been even in numbers, and the guy who had gotten stuck with her didn't seem to want to let her leave. Not because he actually wanted to dance with her, mind you, but because he didn't want to be the odd man out. Molly had tried to be polite about it, but he didn't seem to want to listen. She had to practically pry his arms from around her waist as she twisted away from a very uncomfortable grind.

"What the hell is your problem?" He'd asked over the music, grabbing her wrist before she could put distance between them.

"N-nothing, I just don't feel comfortable dancing like that," she told him, frowning at herself for stuttering. She knew at times like this it was best to be assertive, but that was something she had always struggled with being. Especially being caught off guard in front of someone she didn't know.

"Come on. Don't be such a bloody prude," he pressured, trying to tug her back into his embrace before anyone noticed their struggle.

She resisted. "Let me go, please," she'd said a bit firmer, alarmed at his tight hold on her. Warning bells were going off in her head, and her eyes darted behind him to try and see if she could find her co-workers. She saw them, but they were too far away to witness the exchange without her yelling to them and she really didn't want to cause a scene if she could avoid it.

"It's not gonna hurt ya," he insisted and with a hard tug she found herself falling back into his chest.

She tensed for a moment, mind counting her options. She could be complacent and give in, but despite being a bit meek and non-confrontational she did not feel right letting this guy think it was ok to treat her the way he was. Something told her he was used to girls just giving in to him.

So what then? What could she do?

Just when it seemed like she'd have to draw attention to herself and risk embarrassment, _he_ showed up, placing a hand right on the guy's shoulder, whispering something into his ear that she couldn't quite catch.

Immediately after, the creep let go of her, recoiling as if he'd just touched fire. His eyes darted between the two of them, seeming to weigh his options, before he backed away without a word, disappearing into the crowd never to be seen again.

Stunted and confused, Molly could imagine that she looked a bit like a fish the way her mouth opened and closed as it tried to catch up with her brain which was still processing what had just happened. And it didn't help that the man in front of her was a handsome, tall, shaggy blond who was all strong chin and sparkling green eyes. _Fit_ didn't begin to describe him.

"You're welcome," he leaned forward to be heard and chuckled over the music, when a minute had gone by and she still had yet to speak, a hand went up to scratch his cheek a bit bashfully.

She noted, though a bit distractedly, that his accent was very American and if a voice could _sound_ like a smile she was sure his would be the example. Snapping from her stupor, Molly flashed a bit of teeth and let out a breath of relief, her face most definitely flushed. "T-thank you!" she was able to get out finally, but spoke so loud he reeled back with a wince. "Sorry."

"It's alright!" He laughed, speaking in the same volume she had with a playful smile on his lips.

Finally thinking properly, she fixed him with a curious glance. "How'd you get him to bugger off?"

"Can't tell you," he grinned mischievously, and she frowned.

"Why not?"

Green eyes looking around aimlessly, he rocked on his feet before staring at her with a shyier smile. "Because if I do then I loose my mystery and you'll lose interest... and, well, to be honest I was kinda going to ask if you wanted to sit and talk a bit."

"Sit and talk...?" She repeated dumbly, and for a moment her mind went blank as she realized this man was hitting on her. Not that she'd never been hit on, of course, but this man was _gorgeous_ and truly she couldn't possibly see what he'd see in her. She wasn't being self-conscious or anything (ok, maybe a little), just realistic. Guys who looked like him didn't need to go speak to a woman, they'd come to him.

"Yeah, you know. Talk. Chat. That neat thing that happens when words come out of a person's mouth and another person hears it and replies with more words," he rambled, looking a bit uncertain. Probably because she looked so shocked.

Feeling silly, her cheeks burned in embarrassment as she nodded, "I, uh... alright."

"Really?" he beamed and she nodded again. "Cool. Cool." For a few seconds they just stood there staring at each other, both at a loss on what to do next before he snapped out of it and motioned for her to lead the way.

Feeling _very_ unsure of herself, Molly turned awkwardly and lead him to the table she and her still dancing co-workers had been sharing earlier in the night. He let her take a seat first before sitting in the one across from her, eyes never leaving her form.

"I'm Zane by the way, Zane Quincy," he introduced himself, offering her his hand to shake.

"Nice to meet you, Zane. I'm Molly." She shook his hand nervously and added "Hooper" as an afterthought. The skinship lasted a bit longer than normal as their eyes connected, and she became lost in a sea of green, noting the hues of blue and gold speckled beneath the surface. _How was it that such a person could have such pretty eyes?_ He seemed almost other worldly.

She became very aware, very quickly of the fact that she was staring. But what really got her blush going was that he didn't seem to mind... because he was looking at her with just as intensely, if not more. Unnerved by the fact that she had this man's full attention, Molly cleared her throat and was the first to break eye contact. Heart racing a mile a minute as her free hand touched one of her overheated cheeks.

Zane smiled thoughtfully and released her other hand, but didn't look away, intent on keeping the conversation going. "So..." he trailed off, drumming his long fingers on the table as he leaned forward in interest. "Some friends you have, huh?" He asked nodding toward the tipsy group of girls partying and still blissfully unaware of what had taken place just moments before.

She lifted a brow at this as she wondered how he'd known she'd been with anyone. Before she could ask, he seemed to guess what she was going to say and smiled softly. "You kept looking over at them as if trying to catch their eye when that guy was bothering you," he explained with a shrug. "I took a wild guess."

A small smile of her own resting on her lips, she looked over to glance at the women in question. "Good guess... though they're not... I mean, I'm not... we're not close or anything. Not really." His expression went sympathetic and she frowned quickly adding, "Ah, not that I don't like them or anything! They're great! I just... I-I..."

Zane held up a hand to stop her rambling and finished for her, "don't normally do this sort of thing?"

"Yes... sorry, yes," Molly nodded, taking a deep breath to calm herself and continued, "They're my co-workers. Sort of an open invitation to all the single ladies."

He leaned forward even more at this. "Oh so you're single," he grinned, "that's good to know."

At this, her eyes went wide and her face once again felt extremely hot. "Ah, I-I didn't mean... _I_ mean, I did mean... W-what I mean to say is, I _am_ single, yes, but-"

Zane gently cut her off with a laugh. "Relax, I'm teasing."

She deflated. "Oh..."

"But it is good to know," he added in seriousness, wanting to make his interest clear.

"Right." Molly paused, absolutely beside herself. Hands fiddling the ends of her brown locks, she spoke her next words a bit softly, "A-Are you...?"

"Single?" He asked, and shook his head, "No, I just come here to save women from getting unwanted attention. My girlfriend calls me the Batman of nightclubs." He said it with such casual seriousness that Molly almost thought he _was_ serious before he broke into a fit of laughter at the expression on her face. "Yes, I'm single," he was able to get out between chuckles.

Unable to think of where to take the conversation from there, her eyes dropped to the table uncertainly, though not uncomfortably. An amused smile resting on her lips, though she felt a bit silly for falling for his joke.

A moment of silence passed between them again before he changed the subject. "What do you do?"

"Pardon?"

"Your job. You mentioned it."

"...Oh," she said with obvious hesitation.

He caught on to her change in moods and added, "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to."

"No. It's not that... it's just most people usually regret asking that question." The last person to be interested about her job had been Jim from IT... or well, Moriarty. Tom hadn't even known what a Pathologist was until she'd told him. He thought it'd had to do with the study of paths. And at first she'd thought he'd been joking.

"Can't be that bad," he scoffed disbelievingly.

"I'm not so sure. It's not the most glamorous occupation."

Now he looked curious. "Let me be the judge of that."

"I'm a... uh, Pathologist."

"What? No way. How is that not interesting?"

"Well you know. People get squeamish when you mention death and decay," she joked, and was presently surprised when he laughed genuinely.

"True," he nodded, "but still... it's a respectable profession."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," he answered honestly.

Molly fought the silly grin that threatened to worm it's way on her face as they caught each other's eyes for a second time. Again, she found herself swimming. She waited a little longer before looking away this time. "So... um..."

"Hm?"

"What do you do?" She questioned, head bowing as she absently drew circles into the table with an index finger.

Zane smiled, leaning back in his seat. "Cardiology. I'm a heart surgeon."

Molly's eyebrows shot up with surprise. She hadn't expected him to also say he was a doctor."Yeah?"

He nodded, using a finger to scratch his cheek."Mhm. So I guess we have bodies in common. Working on bodies, I mean."

"Except yours are still alive," she giggled.

"One would hope," he smiled with a snort.

Molly found herself very taken with him. He was beautiful, smart, and laughed at her stupid jokes. How could someone like him be possible? Surely she was dreaming. "What hospital?" She pressed, trying to distract herself from her growing crush for a man she'd only just met.

She should have know better, really. Love at first sight was what had her pinning over an emotionally unavailable sociopath in the first place.

He ran his fingers through his hair and stretched his arms over his head. Molly tried not to notice the way his shirt tightened around his biceps. "Haven't started yet. I just moved here from New York, but I'll be starting at St. Bart's in a few days."

Again, she face opening showed her surprise. "What? Really? That's my hospital!"

He matched her expression and gave an almost disbelieving laugh. "No way. Are you serious? Small world."

"What made you move?"

He waved the question off as if it was unimportant. "One of your chairmen offered me the position."

Molly sucked in a breath, eyes widening in amazement. "You must have made an impression."

"Something like that," he snorted cryptically, dropping the subject as he glanced down at his watch. The pleasant expression on his face turned into a frown as he realized the time. "Oh shoot, I need to get going."

"O-Oh?" Molly tried to comment casually, but failed to mask her disappointment much to her annoyance.

Zane gave her a once over and grinned holding out his hand. "Can I see your phone?"

"Ah, sure." Confused, Molly fished out her phone and gave it to him.

She soon realized, though, that he was giving her his number. "There." He handed her back her phone and winked at her. "Call me sometime."

She nodded, too caught up in the fact that she now had his phone number to give a verbal answer. (Nor did she trust herself not to ramble aimlessly again).

"And don't worry about that creep. He won't bother you anymore," Zane promised, rising from his seat.

She started at this, remembering their earlier conversation. "Ah, you never did tell me how you got him to leave."

"I guess you'll have to give me a call if you want to find out!" He grinned over his shoulder before disappearing out of sight.

Sighing wistfully, she looked down at her phone, unable to stop the grin from spreading across her face. At that moment she was sure that she had, in fact been dreaming. How else was it possible that she could meet such a dazzling man? The exchange had left her so gity that she couldn't help but giggle to herself, nose scrunching up as she pressed the phone closer. A bit schoolgirl-y she had to admit, but there was always a bit of schoolgirl left in a woman. Some were just more likely to admit it than others. Molly happened to embrace her's from time to time, and what more appropriate one than now?

But of course, life went on, and as she stared down at the screen her phone buzzed making her jump and effectively breaking her from her thoughts. Frowning at it, she couldn't say she was surprised to see who it was texting her.

 _Come quickly to morgue. Assistance needed. - SH_

Shaking her head, Molly sighed, eyes flashing up at the time. _Midnight_.

...He was lucky she was in a good mood.

 _On my way - Molly_

* * *

 **A/N:** Hope that was enjoyable. Or at least interesting. Or at the very least readable. Heh.

The emotional stuff shall be coming, but of course the groundwork has to be laid out first.

Hope your looking forward to the next chapter.

xx Glory


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** I'm glad that you're enjoying this so far! I'm having fun writing it!

* * *

 **Chapter Two. So Much More Than Friends.**

When the cab pulled up to Bart's, Molly was exhausted.

Sherlock had texted her when she had been on a high (adrenaline rushing, blood pumping)... but the moment she'd stepped into the car she felt herself crash. Trying to keep up with a bunch of party girls would tend to do that, though, and Molly was sure after all that dancing she'd be feeling the worse of it in the morning.

The girls had been sad to see her go so soon, but in their drunken stupor, she doubted they'd even remember she'd left for much longer. At the back of her mind, she made a mental note to make sure to text them all later to be sure they got home ok. It was always better to be safe than sorry, after all. Going out was all fun and good, but she also knew the dangers of it. Women had to look out for one another, and while they had been a bit short on their end of that stick, Molly knew they were good people.

Making it to the morgue at a sluggish pace, she was grateful that she at least hadn't drunk much. She wouldn't be any good to the detective and war doctor if she was pissed, and she wouldn't in a million years want to be standing in front of _Sherlock Holmes_ in any state of drunkenness. She was most certainly a lightweight and turned very silly and very honest when she'd had too much. Her tendency to say more than she should grew the more alcohol she passed through her system and she knew the things she'd tell Sherlock if she were drunk with no filter…

Just thinking about it was mortifying.

Cringing at the thought, Molly opened the door to the morgue and frowned at what she found behind it. Sherlock sat straddled atop of the John Doe they'd gotten in early that morning, pretending to stab it with a scalpel while John looked on tiredly. She paused a minute by the door, lips pursed with an unspoken question as she took in the sight before her. She'd seen many strange things from the consulting detective over the years, but he never ceased to surprise.

"Ah, good, you're finally here," Sherlock hummed in his deep baritone, not bothering to look up. The wheels in his mind turning as he analyzed the body underneath him. "Took your time, didn't you?"

"Hey Molly," John cut in with a nod and a small smile, greeting her properly for the both of them, as he rolled his eyes and leaned against one of the counters. He looked exhausted, and Molly wondered if it was because of Sherlock or the baby.

...Probably both.

She smiled as she readjusted to the oddity of the situation and stepped further into the room, closing the door behind her. "Hey."

"Yes, yes, hello, hello," the detective dismissed impatiently, leaning down to examine the nasty stab wound in their John Doe's chest. The Pathologist's eyes roamed over the body herself as she stepped closer in slight curiosity, having not actually been the one to do his autopsy it was her first time laying proper eyes on it.

It had been assumed that his death was the cause of a mugging gone wrong, so they'd had her working on something a little more high profile for the day. She assumed, however, that her noninvolvement was about to change considering the detective's presence. And she also assumed, due to the lack of attendance of her coworker who was _actually_ on this case, Sherlock had probably sent him away after he'd let the two in. The poor chap didn't like working with the consulting detective anyway and the feeling seemed pretty much mutual.

"Out, were you?" John asked, snapping her from her thoughts as he took in her appearance. "You look nice."

Realizing what she was still wearing, Molly shuffled a bit embarrassedly. "Yes, thank you."

"Didn't interrupt a date or anything, did we?" He teased, grinning.

She flushed, "N-no-"

"Girl's night out," Sherlock answered for her, his eyes flashing her way for a moment, and she stared at him in surprise. "Borrowed makeup on her face, same clothes from earlier just... altered, and the distinct smell of _club_. Judging by how tired she looks and the fact that her feet seem to be aching, I doubt she would have stayed much longer anyway."

John frowned at him, tutting. "Enough of that."

"The girls from work wanted to go out, is all," she clarified and then cleared her throat. "So what is it you wanted?" She was sure she already knew the answer, but it didn't hurt to ask.

"Re-evaluation of the body," Sherlock explained, hopping off the corpse with a flutter of his belstaff. "This was no mugging. This man was targeted for something more than just loose change."

Moving to fetch her lab coat, Molly eyed him curiously, "What did you find?"

"His wallet was taken but tossed in a bin a few streets over. ID and credit cards were taken, but they left the money. So obviously it wasn't the true purpose of the confrontation," he answered, pacing around the body, hands clasped behind his back.

Molly raised a brow and looked to John, "He wasn't bored enough to go digging through bins hoping for a case again, was he?"

John chuckled, "Not this time. His irregulars tipped him off."

"Ah," she nodded.

Sherlock cleared his throat to regain their attention. "So what then? What were they after?" He asked, letting the question fall flat for dramatic effect. "...I believe it was _information_."

"Yeah?" The war doctor questioned, appeasing his friend's need for theatrics.

"Upon further deduction, it seems that the weapon used to kill this man wasn't inflicted with a meer quick thrust, it was plunged in and held there. Twisted just enough to cause more pain, but not kill him before he could tell them what his attacker wanted to know." Pausing, Sherlock motioned her over to stand beside him and pointed down toward the wound. "Tell me, what do you make of that?"

Leaning in, Molly took a good look down into the wound. At first she saw nothing, but eventually, her eyes came into focus on something deep within the wound. She inhaled sharply, moving in closer for a better look. It had been assumed that the wound had been caused by a knife, but it was hard to distinguish exactly what kind. However what Sherlock had found completely ruled that theory out. Deep in the wound, just out of view, it looked to be a piece of the weapon that had been missed in the autopsy… and whatever it was, it wasn't a knife, or at the very least not your traditional kind. "What is that…?"

John frowned, "What is what?"

Sherlock ignored the question, grabbing a pair of tweezers from a tray near the body. "Shall we find out?"

Molly smiled and nodded, her fatigue momentarily forgotten.

* * *

In the hours that followed this discovery, Molly and Sherlock quickly came to the conclusion that their John Doe hadn't been stabbed with a blade at all. Or at the very least, not one made of metal, and it was a realization that had them pouring over every possible solution that they could think of.

They tried many tests to try and determine the origins of the piece, but ultimately all their attempts came up short.

If Molly had been exhausted hours before, at four in the morning she now felt like the living dead. Leaning over a sample of their find, she could barely keep her eyes from crossing. And so, sitting up, she yawned and cast a jealous glance over at John who'd passed out on the counter two hours ago.

While, at the first discovery of their mystery substance, Molly's excitement at solving a piece of the puzzle had drowned out her body's complaint for sleep… she now found it very hard not to comply with her body's wishes.

Sighing, she glanced over at Sherlock as he continued to ponder over a microscope in the same position he'd been in an hour ago. She knew that he was probably just as tired as she was, if not more, but it always amazed her at how long he could keep his composure. She was sure it was all willpower. He was more than stubborn enough, after all.

Rolling her shoulder back, Molly stretched her aching spine before sliding a hand into the pocket of her lab coat. For the billionth time since she'd entered the morgue, the pathologist felt her fingers brush against the cold surface of her cell phone. A small smile curled her lips as her hand wrapped around the object and pulled it out, her mind already going back to a few hours ago when she'd met the stranger who'd been bold enough to put his number in her phone.

 _Zane Quincy_.

It felt like it had been a dream, but the name in her phone reminded her otherwise. And as much at it made her smile, it also frightened her.

He'd told her to call him, but surely he didn't mean it. Not really. In fact, she wouldn't have been surprised if he had come up to her on a dare or the like… For all she knew, the number in her phone could have been very much fake… But he didn't seem like the type to be so cruel… especially after he'd gone out of his way to help her.

It was just that her mind couldn't help but make excuses. She had always had low self-esteem, and never through lack of trying to correct it. Which was why she was rolling her phone around in her hand, trying to think up reasons why _not_ to contact Zane instead of thinking of _when_ she should.

"Shall I save you from hours more of indecision?" Sherlock's voice interjected, pushing away her self-contemplation.

"Hm?" She blinked, pocketing her phone and looking over at him. Despite his words being directed at her, his attention was still on his task.

Nodding to the phone in her pocket with his chin, he explained, "You won't call him. The fact that you have yet to make up your mind should tell you something."

Molly frowned at this, "I-"

"However, it is likely for the best," he cut in before she could object.

And though she should have known better, she urged him to continue with a "How so?"

He shifted slightly, before continuing, "Things like these rarely work out… and honestly meeting a man from a nightclub is a bit…" He made a face into the microscope, hand waving dismissively.

"A bit _what_?" she snapped, sounding a bit harsher than she meant to.

He furrowed his eyebrows at this and turned to look in her direction. He seemed to realize he'd struck a nerve, but he could never stop himself from getting his opinion out once he'd started. "I only mean, he could end up to be as much of a disaster as... _meat dagger_."

"No. He won't." She ground out lightly, her anger spiking. Whether it was the mention of Tom or the lack of sleep she wasn't sure, but she doubted either thing was helping the situation.

"How could you be so sure? You've only met the man once." Sherlock leaned back in his seat and scoffed lightly.

"And how could you be so sure? You haven't _met_ him at all!" She huffed, tossing the file in her hand down.

She could tell by the look on his face that he only seemed to be trying to help her, but he should have known better. Any time that he mentioned anything about her love life Molly had been getting increasingly angrier at him. She blamed this bitterness on many things… lack of sleep… skipping breakfast… but everyone knew why.

Molly had broken off her engagement with Tom ages ago… because of the very man sitting in that room only a few feet away from her. Because she couldn't help but think about him. It hadn't been because she'd thought Sherlock would come running to her, or that she had any chance in pursuing him… but… the fact that she was still in love with him played a very key factor in why she still had yet to find anyone new.

And it didn't help that all her other relationships had been… less than ideal. Hell, Tom and Jim aside, even before she met Sherlock Molly had never been every good at having a good and lasting relationship. If any relationship at all. But having Sherlock butt in every time she had a chance to try again made it all the more difficult for her.

While yes, they had grown a closer friendship with each other after everything they'd been through, and Molly knew that he was only looking out for her in his Sherlock way…. But having him give his opinion on every potential boyfriend was not helping her as much as he likely thought it did. Boundaries were long past due of needing to be set between them, but that said…

Molly didn't have the heart to.

As much as she didn't want to admit it. Every time Sherlock showed interest in her personal life, Molly's heart fluttered. As much as it made her angry, it also touched her. She was someone who was special to him. He had both told her that and showed her in the small things he did… but as much as that warmed her heart, it made her angrier all the same. Perhaps not so much at him, but at herself… because while she loved that she was special to Sherlock… she could never be the kind of special that she had always wanted to be… and that still hurt her. They were friends, yes… but there would likely always be a part of her that wanted to be so much more. This, however, was her burden to bare… not his.

In truth, her feelings were a mess, as always… and to be honest staying up any longer probably wasn't going to help things.

"I'm going home," Molly said suddenly, deciding it was time to leave as she stood, sounding a little defeated. She could feel Sherlock's calculating eyes roam over her when she said this, but she refused to meet his gaze.

Pulling off her lab coat, she walked over to hang it and added, "The morning shift will be in soon if you need anything." She still refused to look at him, as she headed over to the door.

"Molly…" Her hand paused at the handle as he called her name. For some reason the way he said it left a lump in her stomach and the pause that came after felt heavy. She kept her eyes trained on the door, not feeling confident enough to look back at him. He sighed, and once the silence felt too long he added, "Sleep well."

It felt like he might have wanted to say something else, but she didn't dare push it. She was always hoping for more from him and finding her expectations fall short. It needed to stop. Instead, she nodded. "You should try to get some too. I know you don't usually sleep much on a case, but even the great Sherlock Holmes needs to recharge his batteries every now and then."

She smiled, even though he couldn't see it, and then she opened the door and left.

* * *

 **A/N:** Sherlock is so hard to write. Ahhhhh. I hope I did him some justice! There was a little bit of some Sherolly in there, right? If you squint? Haha. More Zane in the next chapter, methinks. Hope you enjoyed it!


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N** : This one was fun to write. Hope you enjoy! (It's shorter than the other two).

* * *

 **Chapter Three. To Call or Not to Call**

Molly was certainly glad that she didn't have to work. She slept, quite literally, like the dead just up until noon. And to be honest, if it hadn't been for a Tobi wake-up call, Molly might have slept in even longer.

Unfortunately, she had been right when she had predicted her aching muscles. Even after Tobi had woken her up, it took forever to get out of bed and to the kitchen to pour some food into his bowl. "You poor thing," Molly had sighed in apology.

It wasn't until close to 3pm that she started properly functioning again. After a late breakfast and a shower, she curled herself up on the couch and caught up on her shows. It wasn't much later that Tobi joined her, stretching out beside her as she found herself in relative peace. It had been a while since she'd had a whole day to herself and she planned to enjoy the prospect of being able to sit at home and relax…

Or at least, that had been her plan until her mind, like usual, began to wander.

" _Shall I save you from hours more of indecision?... You won't call him_." Sherlock's voice echoed in her head, albeit more mockingly than he'd originally said it.

Molly glanced over at her phone, a frown etching its way onto her features. "Why does he always do that?" She asked her furry companion. Transfixed on cleaning himself, Tobi didn't bother to so much as look her way, but she continued undeterred, "He _always_ does that… Always has to go ruining a good thing…"

Sighing she got up, resulting in a protesting meow from Tobi whose source of warmth had left the couch. Molly was too wrapped up in her own thoughts to pay him much mind. "Who says I won't call Zane eventually?" she pressed on, beginning to pace about the room. "I mean… I've called people before. It's simple enough."

She scoffed and snatched up her phone, trying to look determined. "Look. I'll do it now." She found Zane's information with a few quick taps and held a finger over the call button… but hesitated.

She gave a pensive glance over in her cat's direction and dropped her finger. "Oh Tobi… but what if Sherlock's right? ...He usually is you know."

It wasn't like she didn't understand where the detective had been coming from, after all. Clubs weren't the best places to go looking for a Mr. Right… but at the same time they couldn't just be ruled out either. Statistically speaking, however, it was more than likely Sherlock had been onto something.

"Ah, but Zane said he was going to start working at Bart's…" she remembered, sitting herself down on the arm of her couch. "I'd see him eventually wouldn't I?"

Molly thought on it for a moment more before shaking her head. "Well… no… I suppose a brain surgeon doesn't need to pass by the morgue…" She sighed again, and let herself fall back into the cushions.

Molly was driving herself crazy with all her indecision… but what was she to do?

Turning around, she came face to face with Tobi and pouted. "Oh, but… he was so charming… and handsome…" She said wistfully, scratching behind the cat's ear. He purred in response. "I know. I know. I should do it. I should call him."

And yet… she still didn't move to do it. For the next hour Molly played with the idea of whether or not to call the fit brain surgeon from America.

Eventually, however, she decided that Sherlock had been right… she couldn't call him. Just the thought of it made her too nervous. ...But that didn't mean she couldn't text, right?

 _Hi. It's me from the other night._

She sent after a tentative moment… well, _a few moments_ , of trying to get the message right. Until she realized she hadn't identified herself, and added a quick:

 _Molly, I mean._

And then, of course, came the worst part of texting anyone… waiting for the reply.

She was a naturally patient person, but not necessarily when she was nervous. She switched back and forth between staring at her phone intently to setting it down on the coffee table because she wasn't sure what to do with herself.

Honestly… part of her didn't even really want a reply. If he didn't text her back at least then she wouldn't have to-

Clutching her phone, a vibration shocked her out of her thoughts and Molly watched as Zane's name flash up on her caller id. Inhaling sharply, she threw it without thinking, her mind going into a bit of a panic. The phone landed on the carpet a foot away.

She hadn't expected him to answer her by _calling_! What on Earth was she supposed to do now?! Who on god's good Earth answered a text with _a phone call_? She was not prepared to-

The phone buzzed again and she gasped, running after it. Even if she was a nervous wreck, she couldn't very well let it go to voicemail… could she? It just wouldn't be proper.

So, biting her lip, she picked it up, took a deep breath and accepted the call with a slightly shaky: "He… Hello…?"

"Hey Molly," Zane's voice came through the other end sounding just as nice as it had the other night.

She flushed, freezing up because hearing him say her name reminded her that he was real. An attractive real man… and he was interested in her… and she wasn't so sure what she was to do about it.

"Molly?" he questioned when she hadn't replied back, snapping her out of her stupor.

"Hm?" she shook her head to calm herself and sat down, "O-Oh yes, I'm here."

"Sorry did I call at a bad time?"

"No! No. I was just surprised is all."

He chuckled at this. "What? That I answered your text with a call?"

Molly blinked. Was he a mind reader? "Well, yes… Oh! But it's ok!"

He hummed. "Good. I'm glad. It might sound weird but I prefer calls to texts… Unless I'm working, of course."

She laughed a little and hoped it sounded natural. "I'm the opposite actually, but I don't mind talking on the phone... " Hah. Her pounding heart begged to differ, but she ignored it as best she could.

He chuckled again. "Well, as long as you don't mind it…"

A silence filled the line for a second, and Molly found herself shifting uncomfortably. She had always been a bit awkward, but she was surprised at just how much Zane made her jump. There was just something about him… something different… something she couldn't quite put her finger on.

Eventually he cleared his throat and continued. "Um. So… I'm glad you contacted me. I was just thinking about you, actually."

She sat back at this. "Really?"

"Yeah. I was wondering… well hoping that you'd like to go out… with me?"

"Go out?" she found herself repeating dumbly.

He pressed forward, earnestly, "Maybe dinner and a movie? Tomorrow?"

"Ah… that's perfect, actually," she nodded to herself, finding the idea of going out with Zane to be both thrilling _and_ terrifying all at the same time. "I work in the morning but I'll be free after five."

"Want me to pick you up there? I need to stop by Bart's anyway."

"Oh. Alright I suppose that's fine," she agreed, unable to stop the smile that begun to worm its way onto her face.

"Awesome. I'll see you then." From the sound of his voice, it was easy to imagine that he was smiling too.

"See you."

He hung up after another small chuckle and Molly pulled the phone away from her ear to stare at it in wonder, her smile never leaving her face.

A date. She had a date.


End file.
